Taxing Sevie
by Cybelline
Summary: While teaching in the U.S. as part of an educational exchange program, Severus Snape is audited by an agent of the I.R.S.  Who will survive?  Would welcome reviews . . . I think.


**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that are taken from the Harry Potter books are the sole property of J.K. Rowling, and I have no claim to them in the real world. Nor, unfortunately, do I get to date/nuzzle Severus Snape.

**Taxing Sevie**

Severus Snape gathered his cloak closer around him as he shifted in the hard plastic chair. Did the muggles running the IRS purposely furnish their offices for maximum discomfort, he wondered idly.

This was ridiculous. Bad enough that Dumbledore had thought it necessary – heaven only knew why – to participate in a professor exchange program with an American wizard teaching at UCLA. Almost two years of non-stop sunshine and warm weather was enough to make one go insane. What he wouldn't give for a nice clammy mist, or a week long soaking rain!

Not to mention the moronic students. When he had arrived to teach "The Darkest of Arts: The Myth and Mythology of Witchcraft" he had been foolish enough to hope that teaching university aged students would finally provide him with an audience worthy of his intellect. Instead, he had a class full of idiots who had no clue that they were supposed to be able to speak and write the English language. When they actually bothered to show up to class, that is. At least he got some amusement out of jinxing anyone who called him "Dude."

But now – to receive a letter from the Internal Revenue Service claiming that he had taken inappropriate work related deductions on the taxes that he had had to pay to bolster his role as a normal, muggle teacher. He could only imagine Dumbledore's glee when he was forced to include this in his weekly report.

"Mr. Snape? Mr. Pinkus will see you now." The blond receptionist eyed him worriedly as he rose to follow her into the inner sanctum of auditors. This one definitely looked capable of 'going postal'. She delivered him to Mr. Pinkus' desk and retreated quickly.

"Mr. Snape, my name is –"

"It's Professor Snape."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, yes, I see right here on your 1040 that you are listed as an educator. Well, Professor Snape, my name is Herbert Pinkus and, as you know, we are meeting to discuss some of the deductions claimed on your last tax return. Do you have your paperwork with you?"

"Of course," said Snape testily. Did the man honestly imagine that he would arrive unprepared?

"Professor Snape," said Mr. Pinkus, "we are most concerned with the expenses that you are claiming as work related. For instance, you have noted down $8,456 under 'Uniforms'. Now, my understanding is that – as a professor at UCLA, which is the reporting authority that sent us your W2 – you would not have to wear a uniform at all, just normal street clothes or a business suit."

Snape glared at the man. "If you had taken the time to read the detailed addendum that I supplied with my return," he said through gritted teeth, "complete with photocopies of the receipts, I had to buy an entirely new wardrobe when I arrived, as the clothes that I brought with me from the United Kingdom were completely unsuited to the hellish heat that seems to be the norm in this infernal state. It is essential that my attire match the gravity of my subject – the Dark Arts – and there was only one shop just off of Rodeo Drive that carried the style and quality of clothing to which I am accustomed. So you can remove that item from your list," he finished, staring intently at Pinkus.

Mr. Pinkus cleared his throat. "Ah . . . Professor Snape. That's not how it works here at the IRS. We are the ones who decide what may or may not be 'removed from our list'. However I will note your response for the file. Now, as for 'Publications' . . . I'm afraid the The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly do not fall under the category of work related magazines that are necessary in order for you to keep up with your profession. In fact, I've checked the publishing lists, and can't find any mention of those publications. I'm afraid we can't allow you to just make up the names of magazines to try to deduct a few more dollars. And, speaking of dollars, there seems to be some sort of bank fee that you've included for the conversion of galleons to dollars at the Gringotts Exchange. I'm sorry, but bank fees are not deductible at all, no, not at all" He shook his head in a sympathetic but firm way, a way that had cowed many a tax malingerer into compliance.

Snape's eyes narrowed. He had made his explanation and issued the directive in such a way that Pinkus should have been wrapping up the meeting and offering to refund even more money. What had happened? Why hadn't Pinkus' subconscious been submissive to his power of suggestion? He tried again.

"Look here, Pinkus," he said, careful to keep his tone suave and conciliatory. "I'm sure that these little details can be –"

"Little details!" said Pinkus heatedly. "My dear Professor Snape, these details are the heart's blood of the Revenue Service. If we let 'little' things fall by the wayside, the ultimate conclusion is chaos and insurrection! And you will refer to me as Mr. Pinkus, if you please."

Snape snapped. He stood up, towering over the official menacingly. "If your intellect weren't as mean as your stature," he hissed, "you would have the capacity to understand the finer points of my return. Compared with the drivel that you must routinely receive, I see no reason why toadstools and deadly nightshade are highlighted with "Poisons Unacceptable" written next to them."

Snape maneuvered his wand down the inside sleeve of his frock coat until the tip was just jutting out from his fingertips. He had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but any small amount of amusement that he had thought he might derive from this encounter had evaporated into sheer irritation. "Imperio," he thought, while pointing the wand surreptitiously at Pinkus. "You don't see any reason to bother me further with this claptrap," he said quietly to Pinkus. "You are sorry to have bothered me, and will take care of the paperwork so that I won't be contacted again." There!

Mr. Pinkus looked up in surprise. "Professor Snape, I can appreciate that you disagree with the IRS' view of your return, however that is no excuse for your threatening attitude, demeaning comments or your supposition that we will just 'see things your way' and wave off these infractions. Now, please sit down! I am going to get my supervisor, so that I will have a witness to our further discussions." He got up from his seat and walked away, toward a bank of offices with interior windows overlooking the auditing cubicles.

The furrow on Snape's brow deepened. That had never happened before! Why hadn't the Imperius curse worked? Pinkus should be eating out of his hand by now.

Glancing quickly from side to side to make sure that no one was watching, he stealthily turned Pinkus' stapler into a beetle, and then quickly back into a stapler. His wand was working properly. So what had happened?

Damn, if magic couldn't get him out of this, then his financial situation was more serious than he had thought. Renting a house off campus and living on the outskirts of LA was more expensive than his usual life at Hogwarts. His salary was abysmal. He might even have to cancel the hot tub that he had ordered.

He looked up to see Pinkus and another man approaching the desk. "Professor Snape," said Mr. Pinkus, "this is my supervisor, Robert Walsh. I've brought him up to date on our meeting and on your reactions to the disputed claims, and he would like to speak with you privately."

"Professor Snape," said Walsh, offering his hand to Snape and then gesturing toward the back offices. "If you'll just follow me, we can discuss this quietly. Thank you, Pinkus," he called over his shoulder, as he led Snape into a private room and shut the door behind them. "Please sit down, Professor," Walsh said, taking his place behind the desk.

Snape prepared himself for more arguments. To his surprise, Walsh merely surveyed him appraisingly.

"Professor Snape," Walsh began, "you may or may not know this, but we keep tabs on our auditors by listening in on their meetings with taxpayers. This allows us to make sure that the rules are being followed."

"I –," Snape started, but Walsh held up his hand, and Snape subsided, waiting to see how best to handle Walsh.

"I'd like to offer you a position with the IRS," said Walsh.

Snape's head jerked slightly, but long training in holding his emotions in check kept him from betraying his surprise.

"If I might speak to you in complete confidence?" asked Walsh.

"Of course," said Snape.

"Professor Snape, I believe that a position as Director of our Auditing Department would allow you to use the full scope of your, ah, talents – something that I'm sure teaching in an American university doesn't permit."

As Snape remained silent, Walsh continued.

"You see . . . ever since Satan accepted the position as Director of the Internal Revenue Service, we've found that some of our older workers are a little squeamish about the lengths we are able – and willing – to go now, to collect legitimate taxes. We've run into a real shortage of suitable workers, especially at the executive level, and are looking outside the mainstream to headhunt prospective candidates."

"But," countered Snape, "as a citizen of the United Kingdom, it would hardly be appropriate, much less acceptable, to have me overseeing the tax returns of United States citizens. Besides which, I've only ever filed one set of taxes in my life – the taxes that I was brought here to defend – so I am completely unfamiliar –"

"My dear Professor," interrupted Walsh, laughing. "As far as your citizenship, I'm sure that will be no problem with His Darkness. He is, after all, on intimate terms with all nationalities, and has an open, easy going nature. And, with regard to your knowledge of our tax code, well . . . of course you will need to take a short course so that you can learn to 'walk the walk, and talk the talk', but in reality we make up the rules as we go along. Most Americans suspect this, of course, but we print such volumes of conflicting regulations that they can never really pinpoint the absurdities. And every once in a while we let an individual win against 'Big Brother'. That helps keep the masses happy."

Walsh continued, "No, the qualities that we need most are the ability to lie convincingly, intimidate with a mere glance, and show no weakness in the face of blustering. From everything that I've observed, you would be perfect. And it may interest you to know that, in addition to a substantial signing bonus, we also offer lucrative incentive plans based on recovered taxes. I have no doubt that your standard of living will increase, shall we say, dramatically. What do you think?"

Snape paused before replying, considering the offer. "I'm certainly intrigued, but will need to talk it over with my 'significant other'." Dumbledore will go ballistic, he thought. "I'd like to hear more details, though. One thing I must ask . . ."

"Your Imperius curse?" Walsh said.

Now Snape stared in complete surprise and confusion.

"Don't worry," said Walsh, laughing again, "I certainly won't mention your actual status to anyone who's not 'Need To Know'. But I assume you're wondering why it didn't work."

"Yes," replied Snape. "I've never had that happen before."

"It's very simple," said Walsh. "You'd be surprised how many taxpayers try to lunge over the desk and throttle us. But there's this fascinating little shop in London – perhaps you're familiar with it – Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. They carry a line of protective gear against the Dark Arts. Well, it turns out that their Teflon Ties and Spell-Free Scarves not only work against dark magic, but also repel muggle attacks. They are required wear for all of our employees. We import them by the thousands."

"Now," he said, standing up and politely waiting for Snape to rise, too. "If you'd like to join me for lunch, I'd be happy to fill you in on the finer points of our offer."


End file.
